


What If?

by PureShores



Category: New Amsterdam (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, together at last
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PureShores/pseuds/PureShores
Summary: Helen Sharpe is moving on. At least, she's trying. But letting go of Max is harder than she expected, and when he finally stands up and fights for her, it is damn near impossible.
Relationships: Max Goodwin & Helen Sharpe, Max Goodwin/Helen Sharpe
Comments: 25
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this story for quite some time, and expect it to have a few chapters. A little angst, a little smut, and a little fluff await you, and I hope you enjoy it.

It’s almost the end of her shift. Her last patient of the day has come and gone, and she’s alone in her office, shucking her white lab coat and carefully hanging it up ready for tomorrow. It’s been another busy day at the Dam, and she’s looking forward to getting home, cracking open a bottle of good wine and losing herself in the Netflix series she’s currently watching. It’s nice to dive in to another world for a while.

She’s been having a lot of quiet nights in lately. Since she broke up with Akash, she finds she just doesn’t have as much motivation to step out of an evening as she used to. Concerts and bars and glamorous restaurants just aren’t as fun on her own.

Her cell chirps. It’s Cassian Shin. She smiles. Despite their bumpy start, they’ve actually managed to become good friends. Once she managed to wrap her mind around his unique way of looking at things she realized he was talking a lot of sense. She’d gotten so caught up in the Max Goodwin whirlwind, she’d forgotten that it wasn’t the only way. Cassian’s on the night shift tonight, so she can’t rope him in for a drinking buddy, but it’s nice to hear from him anyway. “

 _Have a good night,”_ the test message says. _“Take some time for yourself. You deserve it._ ”

Cassian is a big believer in self-care, and she has to admit, since she started taking his advice, her world got simpler. It’s okay for her not to give her whole heart and soul to the hospital all the time. She’s allowed to keep some for herself. She’s a doctor, but she’s a person too, and right now, that bottle of wine is calling her name.

She locks up her office and heads out, but like every night, she can’t resist detouring past Max’s office, to see if he’s gone home yet. She’s not particularly surprised to find out he hasn’t. She peeps through the door to see him at his desk, bent over a stack of paperwork. As she watches, he presses a hand to his eyes with a long, deep sigh of sheer exhaustion. Her heart wrenches at the sight. He’s under so much pressure, and it’s only in private moments like this that he’ll let his confident mask slip and show the strain. She’s suddenly taken over by the urge to go in there and do something. Let him vent. Lighten the load. But Cassian’s right. She’s more than just a doctor, and his medical director, and his friend. She’s a woman, and a person, a person who doesn’t just exist in the context of Max Goodwin. As she turns to leave, he’s suddenly calling her name.

“Hey, Helen.”

He’s smiling at her. He always smiles when he sees her, always. No matter how stressful the day has been, if he’s lost a patient, if Luna is grizzly, he still manages to conjure up a smile for her when she crosses his path. It’s one of his many quirks that makes her heart squeeze in her chest, and forget about all the reasons she can’t and shouldn’t want him.

It had happened fast. She was attracted to him the moment they met, he was so handsome and sure of himself (even if he did piss her off a little.) Within days, she was his doctor and closest confidante. And then it wasn’t much after that when they were standing together in their private hideaway on the rooftop, and he’d made some dumb joke. The sunlight caught his hair as they both laughed, and she’d thought to herself, _‘if only he wasn’t married.’_ And then it felt like all the breath had been knocked out of her, as she realized what had happened.

The thing is, she’s not sure she even remembers how to not want him. She thinks a part of her always will, even if she somehow manages to get to a point where she’s okay with the idea of them not ever being together. It will always linger, that titillating thought of _‘what if?’_

“Going to sneak out without saying goodbye, huh?” he asks. “Or just here to gloat that you’re heading out on the town while I’m stuck in here with the paperwork?”

“Oh gloating, definitely,” she says, and smiles too, leaning against the doorframe. ”Tonight I’m going to a club so exclusive, there’s only one member.”

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow. “It’s called my apartment,” she says. “I got a bottle of wine and takeout menus at the ready.”

“Sounds perfect,” says Max warmly. “I’ll still be here a while yet, trawling through this damn paperwork.” An odd silence falls, one that used to be filled with her immediately offering to stay and help him, because the time they spent alone together in the evenings was so precious. All day long, Max is in demand, from just about everyone in the hospital, and though they always managed to steal moments here and there, it was always over too soon. But these evenings in Max’s office, poring over paperwork and drinking coffee, she cherished. Just because she could have him all to herself.

It’s kind of depressing really, that paperwork forms the basis of the only real, regular, quality time she and Max have ever been able to spend together. Hardly the stuff of great romance. He’s still not saying anything, and she figures he’s still waiting for her to offer to help him, but then she notices something strange. He’s still looking at her, but he’s not looking at her face, instead his gaze is travelling up and down her body, slowly, with a hint of a smile on his lips, like he really likes what he sees.

If it were anyone else, she’d be cussing them out to kingdom come right now, but oh, how long has she wanted him to look at her like this, with desire, with want? She got a brief taste of it at the last benefit. She knew she’d looked amazing in that green dress. She’d bought it especially for the event, and it had cost her a fortune, but it had been worth every penny. She’d chosen it because she loved it first and foremost, but she’d be lying to herself if she thought she hadn’t also hoped it would catch his eye. And it had worked. She’d got his attention. Made the great Max Goodwin, motormouth extraordinaire, stumble over his words. It was a good moment. But fleeting, like all their moments.

She knows he values her, trusts her, relies on her, but like a great 70’s song, she has always wanted him to want her. To crave her, the same way she has craved him. She allows herself five seconds to bask in his admiration, before she snaps him out of it.

“Hey!” He actually jumps a little. “Eyes up top, sailor, unless you want my Louboutins somewhere really painful. And even that will be nothing to the pain you’ll be in when you have to buy me another pair.”

That sobers him up fast. Max is no shoe connoisseur, but he’s spent enough time around her to know exactly the level of threat that statement carries. Specifically the threat to his bank account.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly, and he’s wearing that look that makes him look like a kicked puppy, that he only wears when he knows he’s really screwed up. “I swear I wasn’t trying to objectify you or anything, or make you uncomfortable. I was just trying to figure out how you still manage to look as perfect at the end of the day as you do at the beginning.”

The last part comes out so matter-of-factly that she almost wants to scream. This is typical Max, coming out and saying things that from anyone else would sound flirtatious, but she knows he doesn’t mean that way.( I _love_ my doctor. I _do_ favour you.) It’s one of the things that is so frustrating about loving him the way she does; the constant mixed messages, and cryptic statements that leave her awake at night trying to figure out exactly what he meant by them. (‘I love my doctor,’ kept her up for a week.)

Why, oh why can’t things between them ever be simple, even just once? For the first time since they met, they are both single, there’s no cancer, and she’s not at cold war with a colleague. There are no external obstacles between them. She could stand right here, look him in the eye and say yes, she’s in love with him, and has been long before it was appropriate to be, but she’d have never interfered in his marriage, ever, would never have put him in that position, or Georgia. But now there’s no more Georgia, and she still loves him, more than she’s ever loved anyone since Muhammed.

And she could ask him point-blank, how does he feel about her? And tell him he has to tell her the truth. No dynamic speeches, just the truth. She can handle it either way. And if he says he just wants to be friends, at least she’ll know, and she can really start putting this behind her. They could settle this right here, right now. But it isn’t what she wants, and it isn’t what he needs. She can’t back him into a corner like that, and browbeat him into a response, it won’t be fair to him. And while she’s a practical modern woman who will (and has) made the first move in relationships when necessary, what she really wants is for him to come and claim her himself, without prompting. Stupid romantic notion though it is, she wants all of it. She wants him to sweep her into his arms, kiss her like the world is ending, tell her that yes, he’s crazy about her too, that he loves her. All that Hollywood romantic crap that she and Lauren like to sneer at on movie night, that’s what she wants.

But clearly, that isn’t what she’s going to get. Not tonight at least. Maybe not ever.

“Good genes I guess,” she finally answers him, vaguely, and pulls out her phone to check the time. She could be well on her way home by now, and yet she’s still here, allowing Max to toy with her mind. But she supposes she can’t really blame him for that. She chose to come this way, chose to stay and chat instead of saying a quick goodnight and making a break for the door. Something still pulls her towards him.

There’s a new text waiting on her phone. Cassian again, nothing important, just a complaint about a troublesome patient, and she smiles as she reads it. Cassian sends her a lot of texts like this, updates on his day, random philosophical or medical questions that come to mind, like a stream of consciousness. Things that don’t typically need a response from her if she doesn’t feel like it, but keep an open dialogue between them. Max texts her a lot too, but nine out of ten times, it’s because he wants something. _“Let’s meet to discuss Patient X.” “I’ve got to take Luna to the pediatrician, hold down the fort for a couple hours?” “I know I’m late for the budget meeting, can you head Brantley off till I get there?”_

She taps out a quick reply to Cassian, and when she looks up again to bid Max goodnight, he’s scowling at the phone as though it has personally offended him. She catches it, even as he hastily pastes on a smile, which to anyone else, would be convincing. But she knows him too well, and she knows that smile. It’s the ‘I hate this situation but I’m going along with it because it’s the right thing to do,’ smile.

He’s been wearing it a lot lately.

“Doctor Shin?” he asks, in what he clearly thinks is a casual way. But he ruins it almost immediately when he practically spits the next few words. “He sure does text you a lot.” “Is that a crime?” “Just saying, he’s on shift right now, surely he can find something else to do.”

He’s baiting her, trying to coax her into bickering back, but she will not rise. Helen is no novice to the nuances of relationships, and what this sounds like is nothing more than petty jealousy, of the ‘you can’t have that toy, I was still playing with it,’ persuasion. Max, for all his many wonderful qualities, can be like that. Like she said after the blizzard, he wants everything, all the time, and doesn’t like to compromise. And to give him credit where it’s due, he normally does find a way to have his cake and eat it too, despite whatever factors are mounting against him. But this is different. In this situation, he needs to take a position. They are not a couple. He has given her no clear indicator that he wants to be. Which means she should be free to have a relationship with Cassian, or anyone else she pleases, without feeling guilty about it. He can’t have it both ways with her, not anymore. It hurts too much.

It’s been a long day. A busy one. And Max Goodwin-related mental gymnastics always leave her feeling even more exhausted. She doesn’t have anything of value to say to Max’s snide little jab, so she simply bids him goodnight and makes to leave. He moves faster than she’s ever seen him move, leaping up from the chair and hurrying across the room to her before she can take more than two steps.

“Are you seeing him?” he blurts out, and she’s taken aback by his directness. “Shin?”

For a moment, she’s too stunned to speak, so he presses on. “It’s just, I see you guys together all the time, and I just thought that maybe you were becoming friends, or you know…something else.”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

She throws down the challenge. “Why? Why should you care?”

She waits, but he doesn’t answer. Some of the simmering frustration at this whole situation seems to burst out of her, as he looks at her with those big, beseeching eyes which have on so many occasions, been her undoing. “Who I do or do not date is none of your business, Max,” she snaps, and she’s surprised at how firm and decisive she sounds. “My personal life has nothing to do with you.”

 _“You’ve made sure of that,”_ she adds to herself, silently.

“You’re my deputy, my best friend. The most important person in my life, aside from Luna. If there’s something major going on in your life I want to know about it.”

Right, because they’re friends. And because friends support each other in new relationships. Well fine, if that’s what he wants. “We’re still getting to know each other,” she says, truthfully. “But I can see potential.”

The fact of the matter is that Cassian will never be her first choice, because her first choice is always Max, who is heartbreakingly close, but seemingly forever out of reach. But there are a lot of attractive qualities about Cassian. In some respects, he is a lot like Akash, witty and cultured and intelligent, and with the added bonus of not being threatened by her relationship with Max (even if they’re never a couple, they certainly are a package deal.) In fact, Cassian doesn’t seem to be intimidated by anything, always poised, calm and collected, as opposed to Max’s zealous, almost frenetic energy. Max on a mission is like a forest fire, destroying every obstacle in his path, and though she wouldn’t change a thing about him, least of all his passion, sometimes being around him can be exhausting. Like right now, for instance.

“Cassian is a good man,” she says. “Smart. He’s had some really interesting experiences. And he’s a great doctor. You should get to know him better.”

Even though Max was on the panel that hired him, Cassian has commented a time or two that the two of them don’t often cross paths in the hospital. She found that hard to believe at first, as most days Max is seemingly everywhere, getting into everything. However, she has to admit she’s noticed that most of the time, Max hovers around her whenever he has a free moment, but when she drops in on Cassian during the day, Max is mysteriously never anywhere in the vicinity. It’s almost as though he’s, well, avoiding them. Like he doesn’t want to see them getting close.

If she didn’t know better, and if she was still the lovesick fool she was two weeks ago, she’d be tempted to think he was jealous. But she’s probably just projecting there, because as much as she’d like to deny it, she isn’t completely innocent of coveting something that somebody else has. There were times she was envious of Georgia. Not in the mad, obsessive, scratch-your-eyes-out way, she’d genuinely liked Georgia a lot, and had genuinely grieved her loss. But sometimes, she’d look over at her and all she could see was the life she herself desperately wanted. Max’s wife, his life partner. Wearing his ring. Carrying his child. A life that’s seeming less and less likely that she’ll ever get.

Max looks unimpressed with her assessment of Cassian, and none-too-graciously concedes that he is an excellent trauma surgeon, and they’re lucky to have him, but she can tell from his tone that they won’t be hanging out outside of work anytime soon. She wants to chide him for his attitude, but really what would be the point? When Max makes up his mind about something, nobody can change it, and she knows that better than anyone. She feels that Max-related annoyance start to rise up again, and it must show in her face, because he sighs.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says, quietly. “You’re absolutely right, I’ve got no right to give you the third degree about your personal life. And if he makes you happy…” He hurriedly pastes on that smile again, and says, “then that’s great. I’m happy for you.” It looks like the words taste bad in his mouth as he reluctantly spits them out. And once again, they’re at stalemate, eyes locked onto each other, neither willing to say anymore.

The air is thick with words unspoken, and Helen feels like it’s choking her. She has to get out.

“Don’t stay too much longer,” she says. “Make sure you can spend some time with Luna before she goes to bed.” Then she turns, and finally, walks away from him.

But just like every night, she lets herself wonder if this might be the night he chases after her.

And just like every night, he doesn’t.

* * *

The sun has barely risen when she’s roused from her peaceful sleep by the buzzing of a text message. She curses the texter, as the last blissful vestiges of sleep melt away. Today is her day off, goddamn it, and she planned to sleep in, a rare treat. As the buzzing continues, she looks drowsily over at the clock on her bedside table. 8am. Who could possibly need to talk to her so badly at 8am on a Saturday?

It’s Max. _“I’m on my way over,”_ he writes. _“We need to talk.”_

That sounds ominous, (not to mention a little presumptuous. What if she wasn’t home? What if she’d had someone spend the night?) and it’s far too early for any conversation that comes with ‘we need to talk.’ She’s about to respond and tell him not now and she’ll talk to him later when another text arrives.

_“I can’t believe I just invited myself over to your place. I sound like such a jerk. Can I buy you breakfast instead?”_

She can’t help but smile. It really is incredibly difficult to stay mad at Max for any length of time. And whatever he wants to talk about must be important. He’d never get Luna out of her morning routine for anything less. She hasn’t seen Luna in a while. And as she’s awake now, anyway, she might as well get a free meal out of it. So, she agrees to meet him at the café on the corner in a half-hour.

Dressed in jeans, and a loose, comfortable top, she walks into the café exactly thirty minutes later. Max texted her as she was on the way over, to tell her he’s ordered her favourite, (he knows what it is because they eat here a lot.) Immediately she spots him, Luna beside him in a highchair, cooing at him. He’s nodding and smiling as though he understands exactly what she’s saying, and maybe he does. She’s known from the day they lost Georgia that Luna would grow up to be the apple of her father’s eye. It’ll be the two of them against the world, and woe betide anyone who ever tries to come between them. It’s such a sweet sight.

Max, as though sensing her presence, looks up and sees her. Grinning, he points her out to Luna, who squeals with delight at the sight of her. He stands as she approaches the table, gets Luna out of the highchair and places her in Helen’s arms. As she makes sure she’s got a firm hold on the squirming baby, she doesn’t see it coming when he leans over and gives her a light peck on the cheek.

 _“Thanks for coming,”_ he says.

It’s the tiniest thing, his lips are on her skin for no longer than a fraction of a second, but she can’t help but notice that he lingers near there for longer than necessary, so much so that she wonders if he might kiss her again. This is a new development. They’re not this kind of friends, the cheek-kissing kind, or at least she never thought they were. She gives a non-committal sort of wave, still reeling, but now Max is pulling out her chair for her, and resuming his own seat like he’s done nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever.

So this is how it’s going to be, is it? In case he wasn’t playing havoc with her emotions enough, now he’s adding a whole new level of torture, by breaking down yet another of the very few remaining boundaries between ‘best friends’ and ‘something more,’ that they’ve been skirting for as long as she can remember. Well fine, if he’s not going to make a big deal of this, then neither is she. She settles into her chair, making sure Luna is secure on her lap.

“You didn’t give me much choice, Max,” she says. “You never do.”

“I really didn’t mean to come off like such a demanding ass the first time,” he says, apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“You deserve better.”

How she wishes he’d stop looking at her like that, like he’s trying to tell her something with his eyes. Treasure as she does their unspoken connection, there are times she wishes he’d just tell her what is on his mind the old-fashioned way. “Well, anyway, you got me here. So tell me, what was so important that you dragged yourself all the way across town at the crack of dawn on a weekend?”

“There’s something I need to say to you. And it’s something that you’re probably going to have strong opinions about.” She opens her mouth to ask the first of about twenty questions that have just popped into her head, but he holds up his hand to stop her.

“Please, Helen. Just let me get through it before you say anything, otherwise I’m not sure I’m going to have the guts. And I need to say it.” He looks so serious. Nervous too, his fingers are drumming anxiously on the tabletop, and he can’t seem to stop fidgeting. He’s clearly going through something right now, and if he needs her to listen, she can do it.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he parrots, then takes a long deep breath. “You know you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, right? I would be quite literally, nothing without you, and every day I thank my lucky stars that I’m lucky enough to know you.”

He sure is laying it on thick. What is he doing? Firing her? Maybe announcing he’s moving on to another hospital? She knows for a fact that he fields calls nearly every week from hospitals all across America, begging him to come and be their medical director. It’s only a matter of time before an offer comes up that he just can’t refuse, and perhaps he wants to get away from New York, and all the memories. She’d understand that. But she knows she’d miss him terribly, and that much of her own devotion to the Dam would go with him.

“I know I can tell you anything,” he continues. “So now I have to tell you this. I lied to you yesterday.” True to her word, Helen doesn’t speak, but she is baffled. Is this all? It doesn’t seem worthy of the state he’s gotten himself into. He must guess what she’s thinking because he smiles a little. “I told you that I’m happy if you’re happy, but right now, I’m not. Because someone is making you happy, and that someone isn’t me.”

Helen feels her mouth drop open in surprise at this pronouncement, but it is as nothing to what comes next. “And after we talked last night I went home, fed Luna, sung her a lullaby, put her to bed, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then I lay awake for hours, still thinking about it. And then I figured out about six hours ago, that the reason it’s bothering me so much is because I’m in love with you, Helen. Like, madly, pathetically, can’t-get-anything-done-if-you’re-in-the-room in love with you.” He says all this with his eyes on his own clasped hands, as though he fears what she might think.

She can’t believe what she’s hearing. Perhaps she never got out of bed at all, and she’s still dreaming. Or the sky is falling in. Or she’s simply experiencing a delusion.

“I bet you think I’m just saying this because of Shin,” he adds, in a sudden rush. “And maybe on some level you’re right. I can’t lie, it kills me to think of you with him. But this isn’t new, at least not for me. _This_ has existed long before he turned up.” He gestures between them both, and she knows exactly what he’s referring to, this magnetic pull towards each other they’ve had since day one. She always suspected (hoped?) it wasn’t one-sided, but never in a million years would she have allowed herself to think he might act on it.

“I would hate to think that we could miss out on something so amazing just because neither of us wants to be the one to speak up,” he continues. “And I know I’m the screwed up one, so it has to me. And I also know that I might already be too late, and if I am, I’ll live with that. But you deserved to know.”

He falls silent, exhaling a long breath, as she continues to process everything else he said. She’s not looking at him, but she can feel his eyes on her now, searching for a reaction. In her arms, Luna fusses slightly, and she gives the baby a little squeeze as she takes it all in. She should be elated, she knows she should. Her heart should be beating out of her chest, she should be beaming at him, telling him yes, she loves him too, has loved him practically since the moment she set eyes on him.

But she isn’t.

“Max, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” she says, so quietly that he leans forward to hear her better. He smells like his trademark aftershave, whenever she smells it, she thinks of him. “But I never actually thought you would. In fact,” she smiles, a little ruefully. “I’ve been trying so hard to get over you, because I never thought we’d get here. So, what’s changed? Why now?”

“How do you mean?

“That night in your office after Castro left. You had to have known then how I felt about you. God, Max, I was practically screaming it at you. And you walked over to me, and you looked at me just like you’re looking at me now, but I wasn’t enough. So what's changed?”

She has replayed that night in her mind many times. She was offering her heart up to him on a platter, all he’d had to do was give her a sign that he wanted it. For one wonderful moment, she’d even thought he might finally kiss her. He’d wanted to, she could see it in his eyes, but not enough to act on it. It had taken a lot of strength of character for her to walk away from him that night. All she’d wanted was to step forward, and hold him, to feel his arms around her. She’d been where he was after she’d lost Muhammed, had known the pain, the guilt, the uncertainty. But she couldn’t take this step for him, couldn’t force him to be ready. So, she walked away, even though it broke her heart.

Max looks stunned. “You’re not _enough?”_ he repeats, incredulously. “How could you possibly think that? Helen, you’re…everything.” She knows he means it, because he looks just like he does when he’s pushing for some mad idea for the hospital, the same glint in his eyes, the same rigidity to his posture, like he’s a fighter pilot homing in on a target.

“But it took the threat of someone else for you to tell me so,” she points out. “Be honest, if it weren’t for Cassian we’d still be in the same holding pattern we’ve been in since you broke up with Alice.”

The name stings a little to say. Alice, who he bonded with in a way he couldn’t seem to with her, over their recent widower status and subsequent single parenthood. Alice, who she’d met once at the hospital while she’d been waiting for Max. She’d seemed like a nice lady, if not particularly out of the ordinary. Attractive. Friendly. Well-spoken. In other circumstances, Helen probably would have liked her a lot. But all she’d been able to see was the person Max had chosen to let in, rather than herself. Alice had kissed him, dated him, presumably been intimate with him, and then just like that, she was gone. A passing phase in Max’s life, but apparently one he could open up to in ways he couldn’t with Helen.

It had hurt, the thought of another woman stepping into his life so easily. A woman who couldn’t possibly know everything he had been through, or all the unique qualities about him that made him Max. Alice was laughing with him, soothing him, being the recipient of all that passion and affection that she knew Max was capable of. And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been relieved to hear they’d broken it off.

He doesn’t bother protesting, because she knows he truthfully can’t. The arrival of Cassian has forced his hand. They both know it. And maybe he did need the push. But if they finally go there, there has to be more to it than this. The food arrives, giving her an excuse to get up and settle Luna back in her high chair. She can feel his eyes watching her every move. When she resumes her seat again, she takes a sip of her coffee, playing for time as she tries to figure out how to articulate everything she feels. She reaches for his hand, he lets her take it, and she feels his pulse skittering.

‘Max, you need to understand something. When I lost Muhammed, it almost broke me. I never thought I could ever love somebody as much as I loved him. And then you came along.”

It had frightened her, how quickly and deeply she had fallen for him. He’d only been at the Dam a few weeks then, but she already couldn’t imagine the place without him.

“I never would have believed you could pull off everything you have if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. You are the most determined, innovative, compassionate person I’ve ever met. And yeah, there are days I want you so much that you’re all I can think about. But you’ve waited until now, until there might be someone else, to tell me how you feel. That tells me that you’re not sure, and that’s okay, but I am sure. I’m all in. And I just can’t do this if you aren’t all in too.”

He squeezes her hand. “What makes you think I’m not?” he asks.

She smiles a little. “I’ve seen you go after things you really want. You don’t second-guess yourself, you just act. And yet, just now you could barely look me in the eye when you told me how you felt. That’s not the Max Goodwin I know.”

“Helen.” His tone is suddenly deadly serious. “You’ve got this all wrong. I have never been surer of anything than I am about the way I feel about you. My world doesn’t function without you. And if you think for one moment that I don’t desire you in _every_ conceivable way then you’re wrong.”

The last sentence comes out as a kind of low growl, and a shiver sweeps through her. Suddenly, she’s imagining her office after dark, Max pressing her against the wall, kissing her deeply, tearing off her clothes, touching her the way she’s always wanted him to. Wrapping her legs around him, his stubble grazing her skin, his arms around her, knowing how it would feel to have him make love to her. It’s not a new fantasy by any means, but it’s usually confined to her dreams in the dead of night, not in broad daylight, and not with him sitting here staring right at her. She’s trailing her thumb across the back of his hand now, without consciously deciding to, and he’s letting her. She could probably lean across the table and kiss him right now if she wanted to and he’d let her. That’s an exciting thought.

“The only thing I’m not sure of here is me,” Max goes on, with a heavy sigh. “You know better than anyone what a mess I’ve been since losing Georgia. What if I can’t give you what you need? I can’t lose you, Helen. I just can’t.”

“Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere,” she assures him, softly. “But we can’t keep going on like this, Max, not knowing where we stand. Soon, neither of us is going to be able to keep our feet on the ground. So here’s where I’m at. I know a part of your heart will always be Georgia’s, and I understand. But if we’re going to do this, I want all the rest of it, and I’m not willing to settle for anything less.”

This is too important to sugarcoat, and this is the truth. She doesn’t have time to waste on relationships that aren’t going to go anywhere, not even for Max.

They’re both quiet for a while, but Luna covers the silence admirably by babbling, and getting her pancakes all over herself and the high chair. She waves her spoon at Helen and her father, eventually dropping it. It strikes the table with a clatter, which seems to bring Max out of his reverie.

“You’re a terror,” he says to Luna, who chooses that moment to smile at him, and Helen can’t help but snort with laughter; the action is so reminiscent of Max. “Like father, like daughter,” says Helen, fondly, reaching out to stroke Luna’s hair for a moment.

“She’s so much like you, Max. At least she can’t talk yet, so she gets to avoid the smart mouth.”

Max scoffs. “Like she won’t learn all about that anyway, hanging around you all the time,” he says. “You two will be ganging up on me before I know it.”

"Count on that."

The odd tension between them suddenly breaks, and they grin at each other, and she knows that for now, they’re back to the safe boundaries of being best friends. By unspoken agreement, the small issue of their feelings for each other is swept under the rug, and they spend the rest of the meal chatting just like it’s a normal day. He pays the bill, straps Luna back into her baby carrier, and the three of them walk back into the sunny street.

“Can I walk you home?” he offers, proffering an arm to her, with a smirk. She rolls her eyes at his lameness, but accepts, even though they’re literally within eyeline of her apartment building. Luckily for him, she finds his complete lack of suave endearing, rather than pathetic. When they reach her door, he unwillingly unwinds his arm from hers, and for a moment they just gaze at each other. As she often does in situations like this, she finds herself examining his handsome face, spotting a few worry lines that weren’t there last week. Giving his all to everyone but himself takes his toll on him. He needs someone to take care of him, so he can take care of everyone else.

He’s scanning her face too, though she’s not sure what he’s expecting to see. She knows she’s looking at him the same way she always does, with open affection and awe. Lauren has called her out on it on a number of occasions. She says she can’t stand to be around them sometimes because the hopeless longing in the air makes her want to puke.

His left hand reaches up. Cups her cheek. His fingers are gentle, reverent. She leans into his touch.

"I love you," he says, again, and this time, ready for it, she savors it. 

"I love you too. Never doubt that."

“I really want to kiss you,” he confesses in a whisper. “But once I start I won’t be able to stop, and I’m carrying precious cargo right now.”

He gestures down at Luna, who is watching them intently. He leans forward slightly and kisses her forehead instead, and her skin burns where his lips touch her. “This is going to sound terrible, but I think I’ve _always_ wanted to kiss you. Right from the very beginning,” he whispers, and she closes her eyes for a moment to let the words wash over her. She wants this, him, so much. It would be so easy just to acquiesce, to invite him in, to finally know what it feels like to have his hands on her, to taste him. But she just can’t. Not until she knows he means it.

“I want to kiss you too, more than you could possibly know,” she replies. “But what I said still stands. I can’t do this only partway with you. Go home, think about what I’ve said. Be sure. And then come and find me.”

“You’ll still be here, right?”

She’s not fooled by the flippant tone for a second, knows what he’s really asking is if she’ll wait for him, again. If she’ll throw over Cassian Shin for him, or anyone else who comes along.

She will, of course. In all honesty, there isn’t much she wouldn’t do for him.

“I haven’t left you yet, Max,” she smiles. “Why bother starting now?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments! I am truly grateful for every single one of them. I hope you'll enjoy this installment.

It doesn’t fully hit her until later that day, when she’s lying on the couch watching some reality garbage, that she’s actually said no to Max. Well, it was less of a _no_ and more of a _not yet_ , but still significant. Ever since they met, she has been his champion, his most devoted supporter, and says ‘yes’ when others say ‘no’, or ‘that’s impossible.’ Most of the time she shares his vision, and when she doesn’t, she has enough faith in him to take the leap anyway, but this time is different. This time it’s her whole future on the line. He stole her heart away from her long ago, but she just can’t let herself succumb to him and to hell with the rest of the world, much as she might want to.

* * *

Helen spends the rest of the weekend alone. She doesn’t see anyone or do much of anything; just keeps to her apartment, reads, catches up on her TV shows she couldn’t watch during the week, shops for groceries. She needs the space to get her head around everything before she faces him on Monday morning. Her phone is full of unanswered texts, from Cassian, from Lauren, from her mother in London, but nothing from Max, which is unusual. She figures he needs time to come to terms with it too. Their relationship as they know it has changed forever. They can’t unsay the things they’ve told each other. They can put it aside for a while, like they had at breakfast, but it’s out there now. Sooner or later, they’ll have to acknowledge it again.

When Monday rolls around, she goes through her normal routine of getting ready for work, but at the back of her mind is the knowledge that she’s going to have to face him at some point today. What will he say? What will _she_ say? Can she go about her daily business knowing what she knows? Knowing that he can be hers, that he _wants_ to be? Can she stay within the boundaries she set, and not let her heart rule her head?

When she arrives at the hospital, the ED is busy, but under control. The flow of patients is moving smoothly under Lauren’s practiced hand. Helen waves to her briefly, and then pauses to consult her daily list.

“There you are!” She stifles a shudder as Karen Brantley comes marching towards her, clearly on the warpath. It would be fair to say that she and the chairwoman of the hospital board don’t always see eye to eye. In Helen’s opinion, if Brantley cared about patient welfare even half as much as she did about money, this hospital would be in better shape. But she digresses.

“Where is he?” Brantley demands to know, coming to an abrupt stop beside her.

There’s no need to ask who. As his deputy and ‘right hand,’ New Amsterdam seems to regard her as the Oracle of All Things Max. People frequently use her as a conduit for locating, or relaying messages to their enigmatic leader. It’s rather annoying sometimes.

“How should I know?”

“You always know.”

“Not this time. Why do you need him anyway?”

Brantley gives an irritable sign. “We had a meeting. He’s late.”

“Maybe he forgot,” she suggests.

“Or maybe he’s just pulled a Max, and run off in pursuit of some harebrained scheme, damn the consequences,” Brantley snaps.

Admittedly, this does sound like something Max would do. He can be very easily distracted sometimes, and particularly if the thing he’s been distracted from is something he doesn’t want to do.

“Did you ask Adele?” asks Helen, and Brantley rolls her eyes. She looks haggard, Helen notices. Maybe she should take a week off. It might unwind her a little bit, and God knows, the hospital could do without her breathing down their necks for a few days.

“Believe it or not, she was less helpful than you. ‘I’m only his assistant, and the one that fixes his schedule,’ says Brantley, imitating Adele’s raspy voice. ‘Why would he tell me where he is?.’”

“You know Max, he marches to the beat of his own drum,” Helen says, in mollifying tones. A pissed-off Brantley always makes the day more stressful, and frankly, she’s got enough on her mind today. More to the point, being annoyed at Max for being Max is about as useful as an ice machine in the Antarctic; nothing more than a waste of energy.

“Well if he’s not careful, one day I’m going to take that drum and _beat_ him over the head with it,” Brantley snaps. “Look, if you see him, tell him to get his ass to my office ASAP.” She stalks away, and Helen smiles a little as two young interns jump out of her way, terrified.

Where _is_ Max? It’s now nearly 30 minutes past when he was due to start, and he’s hardly ever late. Has something happened to him? Or perhaps (and her stomach sinks a little at the thought) maybe he’s feeling as awkward about today as she is and isn’t ready to face her yet.

But no, that doesn’t seem at all likely. Max is many things, but he’s no coward. He’ll be here.

She runs her finger down her patient list. First up, Nancy Sayer, here for her monthly check-up, (her numbers look good, Helen is hopeful.) Then Callum De Witt, for his first appointment with her, (bowel cancer, they’ve caught it early which is a good sign, but he’s got a long hard road ahead of him.) Then, down to chemotherapy to check in her with her patients there…

“I need some help over here!”

Her attention is pulled away from the list as she hears the shout of some of the most dreaded words in the ED. Already doctors and nurses are responding, rushing towards the cry. It’s Max, Luna strapped to his chest, and supporting a young woman, her face contorted in pain and breathing shallowly. Lauren reaches them first, slipping her arm around the girl to take some of the weight. '

“It’s her arm,” says Max, as he and Lauren haul her to a bed. “It’s badly infected, I think it’s going septic. I found her collapsed in the park outside, I couldn’t leave her…”

“It’s okay boss, we got her,” says Lauren soothingly. “Miss, can you tell me your name?”

As Lauren and the team spring into action, Max backs away to give them room, and then looks around and spots Helen. He waves her over, and she immediately complies. The girl is whimpering in pain, but also trying to squirm away from the hands of the doctors trying to save her life.

“I can’t pay for this,” she sobs. “Just gimme some cheap pills, I’ll be fine.”

When Helen reaches his side, he turns to her. He looks animated, but also terrified, and _uh-oh_ , Helen knows what that means. He’s already gotten attached to this girl; if they lose her, he’s going to take it hard. She needs to get him out of here. For his sake, and everyone else’s.

“She’s in good hands, Max,” she says, gently. “Lauren will take care of her, you’ve done all you can do for now. Go take Luna down to the creche, and then go and kiss up to Brantley. She’s livid that you missed the meeting this morning.”

“Yeah well, I was a little busy,” he says, irritably.

“I know that,” she says, patiently. “But Brantley doesn’t. Go explain it to her. She’ll understand. And if she doesn’t, well she can go to hell.”

In spite of himself, Max chuckles. Then his eyes return to the young patient, whose struggles are beginning to subside, as the weakness overtakes her.

“Her name’s Katie. She’s 20 years old. She’s had that cut on her arm for nearly two weeks, but didn’t go and get it treated because she doesn’t have insurance. I told her she didn’t need it to get treated here but I don’t think she believes me.” He sighs. “All the way here she kept telling me she was fine. She could hardly even speak.”

Helen lays a comforting hand on his arm, wishing she could do more. “

She’s here now, and we’ll do everything we can to give her a fighting chance. Trust your team.”

“You know I do.”

“Good. Now, go do your job, so they can do theirs. I’ll come back down between patients and check how she’s doing, promise.”

“What would I do without you, Helen?” he asks, so softly that she barely even hears it over the cacophony of beeping and shouting of the ED.

“Well, let’s hope for everyone’s sake we never have to find out.”

She’s pleased that she sounds light and casual, when inside she’s anything but. Standing here, looking into his eyes, she can already feel her resolve starting to slip away. Why is she fighting this so much, when all she wants to do is fall into his arms? But no. She’s doing this for a reason. For them.

They’ll be better off in the long run.

Won’t they?

* * *

It would be too much to ask that the ever observant Lauren would fail to notice the tension in the air between Max and Helen, so Helen isn’t all that surprised when she confronts her as they both take advantage of a momentary lapse in patients to bolt down lunch.

“Max has been looking at you with even more pathetic yearning than he normally does,” says Lauren, briskly. “So go on, spill. Did you two finally do the nasty?”

“Lauren!”

She is unrelenting. “Well, did you?”

“No.”

“So, you kissed then?”

“No.”

Lauren rolls her eyes. “Christ Helen, I’ve known nuns with less restraint than you. You’ve been wanting to climb him like a tree since the day you met him. You’re both single, nobody’s got cancer. What the hell are you waiting for?”

It sounds so simple when Lauren puts it like that. Helen is not like Lauren, who likes to seize life and opportunities with both hands, and if it falls to pieces later, she finds a way to build herself back up again. She is fearless. Helen is more cautious, a planner (even though knowing Max has certainly brought out more of her adventurous side.) But aside from that unpleasantness during the low point of Lauren’s addiction, she doesn’t hide things from her.

She’s not sure she can properly explain to Lauren exactly what’s holding her back, in part because she doesn’t fully understand it herself. Helen has a career she loves and is proud of. She has great friends, and a loving family, even if she doesn’t see them as much as she’d like. She’s accomplished and happy. And she wants Max because she wants him, not just because she wants a partner. This should be the simplest thing in the world, and yet it isn’t.

“Okay, you’re right. Something did happen. He told me he loves me.”

It’s the first time she’s acknowledged it to someone out loud, and saying it makes warmth spread right through her. No matter how this turns out, Max told he loves her, and nobody can take that away from her.

Lauren swallows a bite of sandwich whole. “He what?” she demands to know, the moment she’s got her breath back. “How long were you going to keep that to yourself?”

She presses Helen for details, and the full story of their impromptu breakfast date comes out. As she tells it, she can see Lauren battling with herself not to interrupt with questions, which she appreciates, as it’s therapeutic to get it all off her chest.

“I just don’t understand,” says Lauren, after she’s done. “I don’t get why you’re hesitating. I know you’re just as crazy about Max as he is about you. I mean God Helen, I haven’t seen you like this about a guy since…” She trails off uncertainly.

There’s a brief pause, as they both sense Muhammed’s name in the offing, but neither wants to say it. This isn’t about Muhammed. It’s about Max.

“I know. And you’re right, again. I've never known anyone like him. And I’m so in love with him I can barely think straight. That’s why it’s so important that we don’t screw this up.”

Lauren finishes her sandwich, and Helen automatically holds out her half-finished salad. This is something Lauren has done since residency, finishing her lunch for her. So much so that Helen gets more than she can feasibly eat on purpose, just so she can give it to Lauren. Though today she doesn’t have too much of an appetite anyway so she’s happy to hand it over. Through a mouthful of lettuce and cucumber, Lauren asks, “Do you want my two cents?”

Helen chuckles. Lauren has never been hesitant to voice her opinions about anything, why should this be any different? “

Aren’t you going to give it to me anyway?”

Lauren swallows. “Not about this, not if you don’t want it.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is a big deal, Helen, and it doesn’t just affect you and Max.” She sweeps her arm around the bustling hospital around them. “This whole place runs on you and Max and your ability to be a team. If this thing between you implodes, it won’t just impact you. We’re _all_ going to get pulled in.”

Helen is skeptical, so Lauren elaborates. “Look no offence, but there are days when I think Max might be categorically insane,” she says, blithely. “Some of the ideas he gets in his head, when he explains them, I just don’t understand how they can possibly work. But more often than not, they do. Because of _you_. You understand him in a way the rest of us can only ever wish to. You’re on the same wavelength. Better yet, you’re the one who figures out how to actually implement his crazy plans.”

“How is that a problem?”

In truth, Helen finds that she is a little offended by this. The almost telepathic connection she and Max share is one of her favorite things about them. That moment when he’s trying to explain something and gets nothing but blank looks, and then he looks at her and sees that she _gets_ it, that she sees his vision; he always looks so exhilarated. She _loves_ it. And she never tires of the adrenaline rush of pulling off one of his ‘crazy plans’ as Lauren puts it.

“It isn’t. But this hospital exists in the delicate balance between whatever lunacy Max can dream up and what you can create to make it happen. It depends on you two always being a united front. But let’s skip ahead a little. Say you’re together, and you break up. Are you still going to be able to work together like you do now?”

“I can be professional. You know that.” Lauren crooks an eyebrow.

“That’s not what I’m asking you, and you know it.”

Helen sighs. She knows what Lauren’s asking. She’s asking if their relationship crashes down around them, if she and Max break each other’s hearts, are they going to be able to recapture this easy synergy they’ve enjoyed since the day they met, which has helped them shape New Amsterdam into what it is today? And the truth is, she just can’t answer that. She can’t predict the future; if she could maybe she could have seen Max coming, and prepared herself for the chaos he was going to wreak on her life. “

You know Lauren, this is all a bit strange coming from you, who has been encouraging me to jump him for months,” she says. “What changed your mind?”

“I didn’t change my mind,” says Lauren, suddenly gentler. “I think you two are sickeningly perfect for one another. I always have. You don’t see how you light up when you’re around him. Girl, you glow. And Max can be standing in the most crowded room in the hospital and only have eyes for you. I truly think you’ll be blissfully happy, and continuing to make us all puke for a long time.”

Helen can’t help but chuckle.

“So why tell me all this, if you’re not trying to put me off?”

“Because I know you, and I know you wouldn’t want to take a risk like this without considering every angle. But I also know that you have a tendency to get up in your head about stuff like this. So, I’m going to break it down really simply for you. Just answer me one question, is he worth the risk?”

She doesn’t need long to consider it. After all, she’s been taking risks for Max as long as she’s known him.

“Yeah. He is.”

“Then go for it,” Lauren urges her. “All you two are doing right now is wasting precious time. And nobody knows better than you guys why that’s a bad idea.”

“When did you become such a romantic?” asks Helen, and Lauren pulls a face.

“Being exposed to your little love-in day in and day out is rubbing off on me,” she answers, with distaste. “And now with Reynolds gone off to be with his true love…well, it makes a girl think.”

It strikes Helen then that she hasn’t ever really talked to Lauren about how she truly feels about Floyd leaving. She knows she’s happy for him, but that their history is complicated, and filled with misunderstandings and heartbreak. They were an important part of each other’s lives. She’s ashamed of herself. She’s been so caught up in Max and Cassian, and her own feelings, that she never stopped to ask.

“Lauren…”

But her friend holds up a finger to cut her off. “No way, girl. We need to get your messy love life sorted out before we even think about touching mine.”

“Well, the ball’s in his court now,” says Helen. “I told him he has to be sure, that could take months.”

“Yeah, right,” Lauren snorts. “You’re offering him the one thing he wants more than anything. Dude won’t last a week.”

* * *

In the afternoon, Helen has a gap in her schedule long enough to nip downstairs and find out what has become of Max’s patient from the morning. Katie has been admitted, and she finds her in a private room on the fifth floor. She looks better, her wound has been dressed and covered, there’s an IV in her arm giving her antibiotics, and she’s sitting up in bed, flicking aimlessly through TV channels when Helen knocks on the door. The girl looks wary as she introduces herself, clearly believing the appearance of another doctor must mean bad news, but Helen is quick to allay her fears.

“I was in the ED when Max brought you in,” she explains. “I was just wondering how you were doing.”

“I feel crappy,” says the girl, shortly. “But a lot less crappy than I did this morning. So I guess that’s a good thing.”

“You’re lucky. If you’d left that arm much longer, there might not have been much we could do.”

“Yeah, that’s what the cranky brunette from the ED said,” says Katie and Helen suppresses a laugh. She can’t wait to pass that little gem onto Lauren.

Katie clears her throat awkwardly. “That doctor who brought me here, I told him I couldn’t pay for any of this. He said he was close personal friends with the medical director, and I wouldn’t have to. Is that true?”

“Max is the medical director,” Helen explains, and the girl looks surprised. “Trust me, if he says there’s no bill, there’s no bill.”

“He’s your boss? Wow, he is not what I expected the boss of a hospital to look like.” “What were you expecting?” Katie shrugs, and then winces in pain. “I don’t know, some old geezer in a white coat and glasses who should have retired thirty years ago. Not, you know…young and hot.”

Helen chokes on air at this last comment, and the girl smirks. She’s right, of course, Max is unreasonably attractive, especially when you factor in his poor health and high-stress job, but she wasn’t expecting it to be put quite so bluntly.

“You think so too, huh? That’s okay, I won’t tell him.”

“He’s been visiting you?”

“Yeah, twice already. I asked him if he had anything better to be doing, and he said no. Guess that was a lie.” It’s on the tip of Helen’s tongue to defend him, to explain that patient care is the most important thing in the world to Max, but she restrains herself. The girl is recovering from sepsis, the last thing she needs is a diatribe on the finer points of Max Goodwin. Instead, she asks about Katie’s family, and learns that her mother is on her way in from New Jersey. She’ll have someone to help her with her follow-up wound care, and Helen knows Max will ensure Katie is stocked up with everything she’ll need. She’ll be okay.

* * *

Back in her office, later that afternoon, she’s trying to go through the numbers for the quarterly budget when the door opens. She doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Max, who is the only one with the audacity to just stroll into her office without knocking.

“Katie’s mom has arrived,” he informs her, sitting down without invitation, and ignoring her glare of irritation.

“That’s good.”

She concentrates on the paperwork again, trying to track down a bit of missing money for the radiology department.

“She told me something interesting,” says Max, in an annoying sing-song voice that ultimately means he’s driving at some kind of point. She knows from experience that it’s faster to play along then argue with him, so she sighs, and puts down her pen.

“What did she say?”

“She says she thinks you’ve got a crush on me.”

“She what?!”

Max chuckles. “She said you paid her a visit. And she says I should, and I quote, ‘get on that fast because women like you are few and far between.’

”Helen knows she shouldn’t feel embarrassed by this. Max knows damn well exactly how she feels about him, and that it runs far deeper than a schoolgirl crush. But for God’s sake, she was talking to the girl for five minutes, if that. Is she really that obvious?

“And what did you say?”

“I told her if I had my way, you and I would already be together.” “You did not.” She knows Max well enough to know he would never discuss something so personal with a patient, not even one as perceptive as Katie apparently is.

“I did not,” he agrees. “But it’s true.”

“Max…”

“I’ve been thinking about you all weekend.” Suddenly, the humorous pretence is gone, and they’re back in that diner on Saturday morning, with the weight of the world on their shoulders.“I hated having to walk away from you on Saturday. What do I have to do to convince you of how much I want you?”

“It’s not just about convincing me,” she says. “It’s about convincing yourself.”

Max sighs in frustration. ‘What does that even mean? What do you want from me? A written submission? A flash mob in the cafeteria?”

“Do that and I’ll kill you.”

“Whatever you need from me, I’ll do it. I’ll take out a billboard in Times Square if you want-”

“-do _that_ and I’ll kill you.”

“Look, I just want us to finally be an us. And unless the meaning of ‘I love you’ has drastically changed since the last time someone said it to me, I think that’s what you want too.”

“Of course that’s what I want,” she sighs. “I told you that already.”

There have been several moments since she met Max when she has simultaneously wanted to kiss him, and punch him in the face. This is one of them. She has no doubt that Max would do any and all of the things he just said if she asked him to, yet he’s still missing the essential point. “You don’t have to make some big, extravagant gesture,” she says. “In fact, if you do, as previously stated, I’ll _kill_ you.”

She pauses to let that sink in. Max is an avid movie watcher when he has time, and has a penchant for making a scene. God only knows what ideas he’s cooking up in that head of his. “

All I want from you is to know that you’re coming into this with a view to it being something real, and something that will last.”

She deliberately avoids the word forever, because she doesn’t think either of them are ready to entertain that concept just yet.

“Okay,” Max nods. “I can work with that.”

She appreciates that he isn’t still trying to plead his case, as some other men would do. At his core, Max is more of a doer than a talker, and he likes to let his actions speak for him. And the fact that he’s willing to put some thought into this is a good sign.

“By the way,” she says, feeling a smile growing on her face. “’I love you’ still means what you think it means.”

“Thank God.” He grins back. “That could have been embarrassing.”

“Extremely.”

“So, I guess it’s safe for me to say it again,” he smiles. “I love you.” That’s the third time he’s said it to her now, and it’s her favorite so far. Because he’s smiling, not shaking with nerves, or trying to put on a brave face at her door after what he must have perceived as a rejection. After all, this is exactly the kind of relationship she wants, one where they can tell each other that all the time, and not just at significant moments.

“I love you, even if sometimes against my better judgement,” she says fondly, and he laughs.

“We sure do say that a lot for two people who aren’t a couple yet.”

“I like it,” she admits quietly. “I never told Muhammed enough. He knew, but I didn’t say it as often as I should have. I don’t want to make that mistake again.” “

I’ll tell you as much as you want,” he says. “Just say the word.”

Max’s expression softens as he looks at her, and suddenly she’s taken back to that day on the rooftop, when she’d first realized she’d fallen for him. It was the first time he’d looked at her like that, and she’d felt the squeeze in her chest that told her, _‘yep, you’re in trouble, Helen.’_ He’d been married then. And he’d been so sick. It had been wrong to desire him like she did, and yet she just couldn’t help it. And she couldn’t stop. So many days, so many nights, right here in her office, just like this. Some days when she wanted to completely take leave of her senses, just for a moment, and kiss him. Even if the two of them never really get off the ground, she still hopes she’ll be able to kiss him at least once. She owes it to herself, to know. T

hey’re alone now. He’s sitting close. She could lean right over, and do it. And to her surprise, she finds she’s already leaning toward him, as though she’d been drawn into his orbit. He’s leaning in too, his hand is brushing against the side of her face. It’s warm. His eyes are closing, the temptation is building-

And then there’s a knock on the door and the magic spell is suddenly broken. She can’t quite hold in her sigh of exasperation as they both hastily pull away from each. Constant interruptions are the nature of a hospital, but sometimes it really, really pisses her off. For a moment, she’s tempted just to screw whoever it is and just kiss him anyway, but the interruption has given her the clarity she needs to know that kissing him now would be a mistake. She can’t set parameters and then flout them whenever the mood takes her; that isn’t fair. No matter how much she might want to. And oh Lord, how she wants to.

“Come in,” she says, and sees him smirk at the clear annoyance in her voice.

The door opens and her heart sinks a little when Cassian Shin enters the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Max recoil a little too. If Cassian is surprised to see Max there, as usual he doesn’t show it. He simply shuts the door behind him and approaches the desk.

“Hi Helen,” he greets her, with a smile. “Doctor Goodwin.”

Cassian is not a particularly expressive person, so he doesn’t smile a lot. He should, he’s got a lovely smile, it reminds her of hot chocolate on a rainy afternoon, just that little bit of warmth against the chill.

“Doctor Shin.” Max’s forced politeness is glaringly obvious to her and she kicks him under the table. Would it kill him to at least _try_ to be civil? “

I take it you two are talking business so I’ll keep this brief,” Cassian goes on, unruffled by Max’s poorly-concealed hostility. “Just wanted to let you know Helen, to meet me in the atrium after work. The bar’s a bit downtown so if we leave right away we’ll be there in time for the band.”

Oh. With everything that has happened this weekend, she’d forgotten that she’d made plans with Cassian for tonight. It was about a week ago, when she was still embroiled in her ‘getting over Max’ phase. When Cassian had found out about her passion for live music, he’d mentioned he had a friend who was the drummer in an up and coming indie band, who were in ‘residence’ at a bar downtown. On a Monday, one of the slowest days of the week, he could get them free tickets, and promised the cocktails alone were worth the trip. It would have been better to do it on the weekend, but he’d been on shift, and as it turned out, she’d been…busy.

She chances a look at Max, who is determinedly not looking at her, though she can make a pretty good guess at how he’s feeling about this, and it’s not favorable. She knows he’s waiting for her to make up an excuse why she can’t go, and send Cassian away. The thing is, she doesn’t want to.

She tries not to feel guilty. She made these plans when she was single and unencumbered (which technically, she still is.) The truth is, she does want to see the band, and to spend time with Cassian, her friend. It would be rude to cancel on him at short notice. She agrees to meet him in the atrium as he suggests, and he leaves happy, bidding farewell to a stone-faced Max as he exits the room.

“It’s not a date,” she assures Max, the moment the door closes behind him.

“I know.”

“We made these plans a week ago, it would be rude to bail out at the last minute.”

“It would,” he agrees. She doesn’t know how to phrase the next question she wants to ask without it sounding as though she’s asking for his permission. She has a right to go and spend time with her friend if she wants to, but with things between her and Max so tenuous it doesn’t feel right not to at least ask him how he feels about it. After all, she never liked seeing him leave the hospital with Alice while they were dating, it was like a stab in the guts every time.

He’s drumming his fingers against the desktop now, looking troubled.

“Is this a regular thing?” he asks. “You two hanging out outside of work?”

“Semi-regular.”

It’s not uncommon for she and Cassian to go and grab a bite together after their shifts, or to head to the bar down the street for a drink or two if it’s been a particularly hard day. And there was that weekend that they went to the art show at the Met. But it’s not like they’re doing it every day.

She can tell he’s not thrilled to hear this, but appreciates the effort he’s clearly putting in not to make some kind of bitter remark about it. He may not like it, but he knows that she’s not doing anything wrong.

“All right,” he says, with apparent difficulty. “I’ll leave you in peace so you can get these numbers done. Send them to me when you’re finished. I hope you have a good night.”

He leaves the room in a rush.

* * *

She spends the evening at the bar with Cassian, just like they planned. And it’s fun. He clearly knows the band very well, as they greet him warmly and accept her into the gang with ease. She likes their music too, there’s one ballad in particular that she likes so much that she takes note of it to search up when she gets home. The cocktails aren’t quite as wonderful as she was hoping for (a little light on the good stuff,) but Cassian assures her that’s just because there’s a less experienced bartender working tonight. If they come again on a weekend he says, she’ll see what he means.

Being around Cassian is easy, as effortless as breathing. It’s like he becomes a slightly different person when he’s away from the hospital and the pressure is off. He’s irreverent, and funny. His friends in the band tease him about his ‘new girlfriend’ and he laughs it off easily. The truth is, were it not for the Max of it all, it’s quite probable that she might have been interested in him. He hugs her goodbye at the end of the night, and drops a kiss on her cheek. It’s pleasant, but it doesn’t heat her blood, nothing like it is with Max. Even the most fleeting touch from Max gets her pulse racing.

"I had a great time tonight,” he says, happily. “I think we should do it again, but as a proper date this time. What do you think?” It’s so different from Max’s rambling, heartfelt confession that Helen feels like she’s got whiplash. But then, that’s Cassian. A straight shooter. It’s refreshing.

And if he’d asked her a week ago, she might have been able to say yes.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she says, and sees his face fall a fraction. “I’m sorry Cassian, but there’s someone else.”

“You never mentioned that.” He sounds a little irritated, almost as though he’s accusing her of lying, but she suspects it’s born of wounded pride. It doesn’t really matter how unflappable you are, rejection still stings. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think I’ve been very subtle about how much I like you, and I kind of thought we were on the same page.”

“For a while, we were.”

It’s not unreasonable for him to suggest that he thought she was interested in him. They’ve spent a lot of time together, and have a lot in common. He’s certainly attractive and well-read, exactly her type once upon a time.

“But all this time, there was someone else?”

She’s really not sure how to answer that, because honestly the answer is both yes and no. Her feelings for Max predate Cassian’s arrival at New Amsterdam by a long way, and they never really went away, no matter how she tried to make them. But she’d forced herself to try and be open to the possibility of building something with Cassian, even if just as a way to get Max out of her head.

“It’s recent.”

“How recent?”

“Recent.” It’s a bit of a lie, admittedly. Her feelings are long-standing of course, but being able to do something about them, that’s recent.

“Is it serious?”

“You could say that.”

“Then it can’t be that recent if you’re already exclusive.”

“Says who?”

This is unlike Cassian, to press like this, and she’s unpleasantly surprised by his attitude. She knows he appreciates honesty, but that doesn’t mean he gets to demand details of her personal life whenever he wants.

“So, who is he? Do I know him?”

For the first time since they met, Helen finds she’s getting a bit annoyed by Cassian’s persistence. It’s flattering that he apparently likes her enough to ask her out, but she would have expected him to take her refusal with a little more grace.

“Why are you pushing this?”

He sighs. “Look, you know I don’t usually put much stock in hospital gossip, but there are…rumours, you know? Concerning you and Max.”

She’s well aware of these rumours, well aware that the hospital has been speculating on the nature of their relationship for a long time, but they’re wrong more often than they’re right. People can’t seem to help embellishing the stories to sound more scandalous than they actually were – if they even happened at all. The worst ones were in the early days when they used to speculate on how long it would take Max to leave his wife for her, implying he was a cheater, Helen was a homewrecker, and that Georgia was some naïve fool who would never see it coming. That had been so deeply insulting to all parties involved that she’d been unable to allow it to pass unchecked. She’d actually made a point of tracking down the gossipy young nurse who’d started it and putting the fear of God into her. Gossip was a natural part of the ecosystem of a large workplace, and there was no way of eradicating it completely, but tales like that had the potential to cause real damage, and to a couple who were going through hell already. She’s fairly sure she’d intervened in time to stop it from reaching Max’s ears, (at least he’s never mentioned it) for which she’s grateful.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I welcome any and all feedback if you care to leave it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Any feedback you wish to leave is welcomed and appreciated.


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